


Methos Chronicles Part 3

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [3]
Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 19:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: Murron comes to Rome and meets the mysterious man again.





	Methos Chronicles Part 3

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Highlander or any of its characters. Just borrowing some of them to play.  
> So this is the third part of my Methos Chronicles. I have some more ideas, so we will see how it goes. Wish me luck.  
> I really like this one, I'm actually proud of it. Hope you enjoy it too.

**Methos Chronicles 3**

Murron startled awake when the flight attendant touched her gently on the shoulder. “We’ll be landing soon, ma’am. Please straighten your seat.” The woman told her with a little smile and moved on to the next row of seats.

Murron shook off the last traces of sleep and righted her seat, then she looked out of the tiny window. Under the plane, Rome sprawled in every direction. Like her, just waking up to a new day.

This was the third stop of the exhibition she worked for in six months and Murron enjoyed every moment of it. It was a lot of work, sure, but she always managed to get a few hours for herself and take in the sights of whatever city she happened to find herself in. And getting paid to travel to some of the most beautiful cities of Europe with priceless artefacts was one of the best jobs she ever had.

 

The Italian mentality was something Murron was still getting used to. Not that they were unfriendly, quite on the contrary, but they had a laissez-fair style she was not really comfortable with. Murron was used to a more strict and binding work schedule.

“Dr. Cross,” Anthony Monti called from the entrance of the exhibition room and motioned for her to join him. When Murron came over she saw an older woman standing next to him who was inspecting the artefacts closest to her.

“Dr. Cross, let me introduce you to one of our great benefactors, Signora Boldrini.” Monti beamed at her and then at the old woman who looked sceptical at Murron.

“A pleasure to meet you, Signora,” Murron said. She didn’t even try to speak Italian, she sucked at it. English would have to do, maybe some French. The only other living language she spoke with acceptable fluency was Arabic and she didn’t think Mrs. Boldrini would appreciate that. Murron’s other languages were all long dead.

“The pleasure is all mine, but I have to ask, how old are you? You look awfully young for someone with so much responsibility.” Boldrini said, obviously not caring how rude she was. The privilege of age.

“I’m twenty-seven, Signora.” Murron tried not to be insulted. She was used to this, usually from men. If it wasn’t her age, it was her gender or her looks. It got quite tiring at times.

“Oh, really? Well, I’m sure you’re qualified or you wouldn’t be allowed to handle these artefacts.” Signora Boldrini stated clearly unhappy with the presence of such a young and beautiful woman, though why Murron couldn’t imagine. “Now, I have another appointment, but I can’t wait for the grand opening.” She said to Monti, ignoring Murron.

“The invitations are being printed as we speak.” Monti hurried to assure her and escorted her out with a quick apologetic look to Murron. She just shrugged her shoulders, she had better things to do than get worked up over insults from other people.

 

Two weeks later, the exhibition was opened with a grand gala. Murron was expected to attend but to keep in the background. It was her job to keep an eye on her charges and answer whatever questions the guests had. Not that anyone ever had any in Murron’s experience. Monti and a few of his employees would chat up the rich guests to get some more money from them. Not something Murron was interested in doing, even if she were any good at it, which she wasn’t.

But she still had to look the part, and therefore she wore a long, dark-green neck-holder dress, her long hair bound at the nape of her neck. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of long earrings with Celtic knots.

Dr. Monti was busy greeting the guests and welcoming them with glasses of champagne, provided by waiters with fake smiles. Murron kept to the dark corners which allowed her to observe the rich and mighty of Rome and Italy.

“Quite fascinating, isn’t it?” a familiar voice said next to her.

Murron’s head snapped around. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed more surprised than angry. The guy had nerves, showing up here, after what had happened in Cambridge.

“I have been invited, Dr. Cross. And congratulation to your new job.” He told her with a smile. And damn did he look good in that suit.

“No thanks to you. I was happy with my old job, until you burned the museum down.” Murron grounded out.

His smile grew. “I didn’t burn it down, that was all Djoser’s doing.”

Murron took a deep breath. She couldn’t make a scene here. “Will you at least tell me your name now? I’m not going to call the cops on you.”

“Alessandro Letta, for the moment. Now, tell me, what do you think about this lovely gathering? You can be honest. I won’t call the cops on you.” He promised.

“Very funny.” Murron muttered. “But it’s…interesting, I guess. Most think they’re more important than they really are. And they’re trying to outdo each other to prove it. The men with exploits, the women with jewels.”

“Very observant, Dr. Cross.” Alessandro agreed with her assessment. “But that’s the fun about these kind of events, otherwise why come at all?” Alessandro snatched two fresh glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to her.

“Maybe for the art or history.” Murron suggested and took a sip of the champagne.

“Boring,” Alessandro pointed out.

“Oh, really? Then what are you doing to pass the time?” she wanted to know. Five minutes and he was already starting to annoy her.

“Paintings, mostly. And then selling them for ridiculous amounts of money.” He sounded inordinately pleased with himself.

“Wow, I wouldn’t have taken you for an artist. More like a criminal mastermind and head of the mob, or something.” Murron hesitated for a moment then decided to go ahead. “Are you going to tell me what you are? What happened between you and Djoser?”

He didn’t reply at first and Murron thought she had gone too far. It wasn’t like she knew him. All she knew about him, really, was that he had burned down the museum, and killed a guy that should have been dead in the first place. And no, she would never say that out loud. It just sounded too crazy.

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but not here. It’s not a nice story. Do you have plans for lunch tomorrow?” Alessandro’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“No, I’m free.” She quickly said. No way was she going to pass up that chance.

“Then I’ll pick you up here around, say, eleven.” Alessandro suggested.

Murron nodded. “Sounds good.”

 

Why did he agree to tell her the truth? He asked himself on his way home. Methos didn’t know except that he felt the need to trust her. A dangerous need. He had squashed that need the last time he had run into her, but Dr. Murron Cross had managed to get under his skin in one short conversation in his car. Add to that the fact that she got into his car in the first place, after witnessing him killing someone in cold blood. Well, not really _see_ him kill Djoser, she was out cold at that precise moment, but she knew he had killed him.

Methos was a sucker for such women. And he sometimes needed someone to connect him to the current time. Alexa had been such a woman, but she had lived too short a life to really help him do that. He had loved her truly and he wished she had lived longer, a lot longer, but he had wished that often and the gods had never listened. They did not care about wishes.

Did he hope that Murron would be able to do that now for him? Connect him to the 21st century. He didn’t even know if she would believe him, let alone accept him. And even if she did, there was no guarantee that she would want to have anything to do with him once she knew the truth, or at least a tiny sliver of the truth.

He had to risk it. Something he hated to do, always had. It went against his nature, against every survival instinct he ever had. He had taken risks before, of course, you can’t live for five thousand years and not take any risks. Sometimes they had even paid off, most often not.

But he had made his decision and could only hope he would not come to regret it. He would have to wait and see.

 

Cairo, Egypt, 1996 AD

Cairo was its usual chaos and mayhem, and though Methos enjoyed it quite a bit, he could tell that it was a bit overwhelming for Alexa. Taking her hand, he led her to a café in a side street and picked a table under the awning. There were several other tourist couples there, so he wasn’t worried about getting kicked out by the owner for bringing a woman along, an indecently dressed one, no less.

Alexa wore a dark blue blouse and khaki pants with sandals and sunglasses, but some Muslim men had very strange notions as to what a good woman had to wear in public these days.

“I didn’t think there would be so many people here.” Alexa said after Methos had ordered tea for them.

“I’m pretty sure Cairo has more people than New York, even without the tourists.” Methos told her.

“Yeah, but do they all have to hang out in one street?” Alexa asked with a tired smile.

Methos chuckled. “It’s not that bad. You should see the Hajj in Mecca. There you have clogged streets.”

Alexa looked confused. “What’s that?”

“A pilgrimage that every Muslim should make at least once in their lives, if they can afford it.” Methos explained. “Pretty big deal with them.”

“Oh, have you ever been there?” Alexa asked interested. She loved to hear about other places.

Yes, several times, he thought but said aloud. “No, non-Muslims are not allowed to enter the city.”

“Never?” Alexa sounded honestly surprised and shocked.

“Never,” Methos confirmed and shrugged. “It’s their most holy place.”

“I thought that was Jerusalem, like with us Christians and Jews.” Alexa stated confused.

Methos shook his head. “Jerusalem is third, after Mecca and Medina.”

Alexa sighed. “This is too complicated for me. I just want to visit the pyramids, you know, like a good little tourist.”

“That we will.” Methos assured her as the waiter brought the tea. “But first, we enjoy the tea. I told them not to sweeten it at all or they would have added at least ten spoons of sugar,” he told her as he watched the man pour the tea.

“What?” Alexa laughed. “That’s insane.”

Methos shrugged. “The Egyptians have a sweet tooth, no doubt about it.”

 

After a day spent playing tourists, and Alexa enjoying herself quite a bit, they were almost back to their hotel, when the Buzz intruded on Methos’s good mood.

He kept walking, hoping that the other Immortal would not figure him out and leave, but no such luck. A well-built, aristocratic looking Egyptian stepped into their way.

“Semhen-ra, what a surprise,” the other Immortal greeted Methos in ancient Egyptian.

“Anhknaton, can we just pretend not to have met?” Methos replied in the same language.

“I’m afraid not,” Anhknaton said. “Say good-bye to your companion and meet me on the plateau in one hour.”

Methos sighed. He had checked the Watcher records before coming here, Anhknaton must have arrived after that. Just his luck, to run into one of the Immortals who didn’t know who he really was and still wanted his head because they had met before. “I’ll be there.” Anhknaton nodded and left.

“What was that all about?” Alexa asked confused.

“Ah, I’m afraid that was my past catching up with me.” Methos reluctantly told her. He had so not been planning to tell her about his _condition_. To him it would have seemed needlessly cruel. But now, he didn’t have much of a choice. “Let’s go back to our hotel and I’ll explain.”

 

At first, Alexa thought he was making a very tasteless joke, after he showed her how he healed, she thought he was making a cruel one. “What am I to you?” she wanted to know. “Some sort of charity case?”

Methos shook his head. “No, Alexa, you’re a many things to me, but not a joke or a charity case. I love you, and I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you going out to cut off other people’s heads, is not making me happy.” Alexa pointed out angry.

“Do you want me to lose?” Methos asked, honestly curious.

“No!” she protested. “I don’t want anyone to die. I don’t want me to die either. Why can’t I be like you?”

“We’re born that way.” Methos repeated. “And it’s not guaranty for anything. In about twenty minutes Anhknaton or I will die.”

“Can’t we just leave? Run away and hide until he forgets us?” Alexa wanted to know. “You said Holy Ground is off limits. Let’s go to a church or mosque or temple, anything.”

Methos shook his head. “I wish it were that easy, but Anhknaton will hunt others just to draw me out. Better not to drag anyone else into this.”

“And what about me?” Alexa sounded scared. “What will happen to me if you die?”

“I’ll leave a message with a friend. Should I not be back in contact with her in twenty-four hours, she’ll come and get you, she’ll take care of you.” Methos promised. He knew Tyrael was currently working in Tel Aviv on some job or other, she would help out if it came to that.

“Is she pretty?” Alexa wanted to know. Well, good to know to know that she wasn’t all that different from other people.

“Very pretty,” Methos told her. “But I have you, so I don’t care.”

Alexa smiled a little. “That is a very good answer.”

 

Anhknaton was already waiting when Methos reached the plateau. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon and only the lights of Cairo illuminated their spot. Methos was just in time, but he had to make sure that no Watcher was there to witness this battle. He couldn’t risk being recognized. Anhknaton would simply disappear and his Watcher would have to get over it.

“Is this about Tut-Moses?” Methos asked when they faced each other. “Because I didn’t kill him, though I wanted to.”

“No, not about him. This is the Game, we must play it.” Anhknaton replied and drew his sword, a sabre like one could see in a number of movies featuring Arabian settings.

Methos disagreed on that. He remembered a time when there had been no Game, no prize, but telling Anhknaton that would be a waste of time. “Let’s get this over with then, shall we?”

“Indeed.” The younger Immortal agreed. “What’s wrong with your wife, anyway? She seems unwell.”

Oh, how nice of him to notice and still challenge him. Not that Alexa was his wife, but maybe he should change that. “Cancer” Was Methos’ reply. “The doctors caught it too late.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Anhknaton hesitated for a moment. “Shall I take care of her afterwards?”

How sincere he sounded, he probably even meant it. But Methos would be damned if he allowed this fool anywhere near his soon-to-be-wife. “Thanks, but I got it sorted.”

“Well, then…” And Anhknaton attacked.

The fight was brutal. Neither Immortal pulling their punches, literally. Soon they were both panting and covered in blood and sweat, their wounds healing as quickly as they were being inflicted.

“When did you get so good?” Anhknaton wanted to know, breathing hard.

Methos barded a laugh. “Ever heard of playing it close to the vest? Never show your opponent all you have.”

Anhknaton scoffed with distain and increased the ferocity of his attacks. He landed a crippling blow on Methos’ right thigh, laughing when Methos’ leg buckled under him.

But his laugh died in his throat when he felt the knife enter between his ribs. He had no even noticed Methos throwing it. Anhknaton fell to his knees, as Methos got back to his feet, the cut in his thigh fully healed.

Gripping his sword harder, Methos shook his head at the younger man and brought the blade down. The Quickening was as brutal as the fight had been, ripping into him and drowning him in agony.

When it was over, Methos staggered back to his feet and hid his sword in the folds of his coat. A strange sight in a hot country like Egypt, but whatever.

With a tired sigh, he gathered Anhknaton’s body, head and sword and quickly hid them under some garbage, there was enough of it lying around. It was not the best hiding place but it would have to be enough until he got Alexa and himself out of the country.

 

“You look terrible.” Alexa stated when Methos came back into their hotel room half an hour later.

Methos laughed humorlessly and fell on the bed exhausted. “Yeah, I’m sure I do.”

“What now?” Alexa asked after a few moments.

Slowly, Methos sat up and looked at her. “How would you like to go to Jerusalem?”

 

Present Day

Murron was nervous. Meeting Alessandro for lunch had seemed like a good idea yesterday evening. She would finally get some answers to all the questions that had been in the back of her head for the last half year. But in the light of day, it didn’t look like such a good idea anymore. What did she really know about him? His name and that he was dangerous. And the first was definitely fake and the later she had seen firsthand. She was blaming her decision on the alcohol. Had she been sober she was sure she would never have agreed to this.

But she wouldn’t back out now. She had pepper spray in her purse and she wanted answers. Besides, they were meeting in public, he couldn’t do anything to her as long as there were witnesses around. And she wouldn’t go anywhere secluded with him. She well remembered her self-defense classes.

She had been waiting in front of the museum for maybe five minutes when she saw Alessandro exit his car and come over to her. A part of her had feared, or maybe hoped, that he would stand her up.

“Ready, Dr. Cross?” he asked when he reached her.

“Sure, I’ll have to be back in an hour.” She told him.

Alessandro smiled a bit. “Don’t worry, if I had anything nefarious for you in mind, I would have followed you home last night and no one would have been any the wiser.”

“Well, that’s comforting to know, I think.” Murron replied. She sure hadn’t considered that. “But I still have to be back in an hour.”

“Come on, Doctor. The restaurant is not far.” Alessandro offered her his arm and after a moment she laid her hand on it. As he had said, if he wanted to harm her, he would have done so already.

The restaurant was only two corners from the museum. It was old and tiny but had a very comfortable look to it. A waiter led them to a table in the back.

After they had ordered, Murron looked at Alessandro expectantly. “So, what’s your big secret?” she asked.

“Not one for small talk, are you?” he asked back with a small smile. “I had hoped you would wait until after we had eaten.”

Murron scoffed. “Not a chance.”

“Alright,” he took a breath. “I’m immortal and I cannot die permanently until someone cuts of my head…”

 

When Methos had finished his explanation, he could see Cross struggling to accept what he had just old her. Not that he blamed her. It was a lot to take in, after all. He didn’t say anything more, simply watched her as she worked through all of it. He had had this conversation far too many times to not know the various ways people reacted.

The waiter came first with their drinks and then with their food and still she hadn’t said anything. Methos wasn’t worried. Some needed more time than others.

She automatically took her fork and used it to move her food around her plate. “If I hadn’t seen Djoser get out of that sarcophagus, I would say you’re bat-shit crazy.” She finally said. “But I did and what you just told me makes sense in a really disturbing kind of way.”

“Most people don’t react quite so composed to all of this.” Methos replied calmly but secretly relieved. This could have gone quite different.

“What? They run off screaming?” Cross tried to joke.

Methos shrugged. “Happens more often than you might think.”

 

Alessandro smiled when he said it, but something told Murron that he wasn’t joking. The whole situation was not exactly funny, fascinating, frightening, yes, but not funny.

“What I don’t understand is how you managed to stay hidden, even now, especially now. I mean, this is the 21st century, there is surveillance everywhere, documentation for all kind of things. How do you manage that?” she asked curiously.

“There are ways, even today. But I have to admit it used to be easier. On the other hand, thanks to higher life expectancy we can stay longer in one life. And add a few proper rumors of Botox and plastic surgery and we can add another decade to our lives. And we’re not that many.” He explained. Now it was him picking at his food.

“How many of you are there?” Murron wanted to know. Maybe he could introduce her to someone more willing to talk about some history. The things old Immortal must have seen, it was mind-boggling.

Alessandro shrugged. “It varies, but at the moment, I would estimate twenty to twenty-five thousand.”

“In Europe?”

He chuckled. “No, worldwide.”

“So few. I would have thought there would be more.” Murron was kind of disappointed and a bit relieved, but she preferred not to think too much about that right now.

“Yeah, one would think so. You can thank the Game for that. It has kept our numbers in check, still does, though most don’t actively play it anymore. Too much hassle with the clean-up.” Alessandro explained.

“I guess, but what if you really hate someone? What if someone really deserves to die?” Murron didn’t know why she asked this but somehow the answer was important to her.

“You stay out of each other’s way for a few centuries. I always found that very useful, but if that doesn’t work, well, we all carry swords for a reason.” Alessandro said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“So, you can’t be friends?” Murron asked shocked.

“Of course we can. It’s not always easy, but we have friends and lovers among our kind. We try to live our lives just like everyone else. Djoser and I were friends, before he killed my wife and tribe to keep me to himself.” Alessandro shrugged his shoulders again, as if to say that it didn’t really matter and started to eat.

Murron followed suit, but she didn’t really taste any of it though it smelled delicious. There was so much to think about, so much more she wanted to ask him. But he had told her as much as he was going to for now, she could tell.

“Listen,” she said when they had finished their meal and were back on the way to the museum. “I know you’re at least four thousand years old. There is no way your name is Alessandro. Are you going to tell me your real one?”

“It’s better, safer, if you don’t know it. I haven’t always been an upstanding citizen, so to speak, and made some enemies along the way. Some of them are still around and I wouldn’t to get you in any trouble.” Alessandro said not unkindly but making it clear that he wouldn’t budge on this point.

“Oh, okay, I guess.” Murron hesitated for a moment. “Ah, I’m being here for another two months and I was wondering if we could meet again. There are about a million questions I would like to ask you. If that’s okay with you.”

Alessandro smiled. “Yes, that’s okay, if you accept that there might be some things I prefer not to talk about.” He gave her a business card. “Call me and we’ll see.”

Murron took the card. “Thank you.”

 

When Methos was back at his house, he went directly into his atelier and started a new panting. It relaxed him and allowed him to think while keeping his hands busy.

Murron Cross was willing to give him to chance. And he felt…glad. He liked her and she seemed to like him too. It was more than he had dared to hope. She was willing to be his friend.

He didn’t consider seducing her, at least not yet, he wasn’t MacLeod who had to chase every skirt coming his way. He didn’t need a lover, he needed a friend. Now it was up to her, if she would call him or not. He thought that she would.

 

And she did, often. In the next two months they met regularly until the exhibition moved on. They most often met in front of the museum. They took to stroll along the banks of the Tiber. They talked or more accurately, Murron asked questions and Methos answered them as best he could without telling her too much about his own involvement in certain events in history.

“And no one will ever know these things.” Murron shook her head.

“Probably, who knows, maybe one day.” Methos shrugged. He didn’t think the Watchers would publish their Chronicles anytime soon, not even in the event that the Immortals were outed. He didn’t plan on telling her about them, no reason to offer her up as a new recruit. “What will you do after leaving Rome?” he asked her.

“The exhibition heads to Vienna and then Moscow, then back home. After that I’m joining a dig in Jordan.” Murron explained.

“Not exactly your area of expertise.” Methos commented.

“Close enough, and I need to work on my resume, to get a more permanent job later on.” Murron shrugged. “So, I do work on it, it will be interesting.”

Methos laughed. “I’m sure it will be. I haven’t been there in a while myself.”

“Define a while.” Murron demanded playfully.

“Oh, two hundred years, no wait, three hundred years. Something about that, I’m sure. Definitely not in the last hundred years. Not a big fan of fanatics blowing themselves up.” Methos told her. Jerusalem he didn’t mention, that belonged to him and Alexa.

Murron smiled. “Who is? I know I have to be careful there, not to say the wrong thing to the wrong person, but I have to take this job. After that I have a good shot at a position at a good university. There is one opening up in Paris in a year or so. That would be great. Of course, I have to brush up on my French quite a bit, but really, how hard can that be? I’m just glad I don’t have to learn Chinese, or something like that. Because that would be really hard. Sorry, I’m babbling.” She said blushing.

Methos laughed. “It’s okay. Babbling is fine. So is the University of Paris. Worked there and at the Sorbonne in the 1990’s. Maybe I’ll take some time off and show you around. If you like.” He offered.

“Maybe I do. But won’t you get into trouble in case someone recognizes you?” Murron wanted to know.

“No, don’t worry. If someone does, I’m going to be a cousin or nephew or even a son. I know how to get the right paperwork.” He explained.

Murron shook her head. “You really are full of it, aren’t you?”

Methos smiled. “That I am.”

End

 


End file.
